I’m not afraid

Isadora:

The leaves still clung to my clothes like whispers.

The air was colder now, the wind trailing over my skin like it knew what had just happened—what almost happened. Lucien’s voice still echoed somewhere deep inside me, twisted and sharp, but it wasn’t the sound that lingered.

It was Silas.

Walking beside me like he belonged in the dark. Like the world stepped back to make room for him.

He didn’t touch me. He didn’t say anything. But somehow, it felt like he said everything. That I was safe. That I’d been seen. That I’d been… claimed.

And that was the part I wasn’t ready to think about.

My heart was slowing, beat by beat, as we approached the dorm. The wrought-iron railing of the stone stairs came into view, the amber light from my hallway spilling through the windows like a warm promise. Normalcy. Quiet. Sleep.

I wasn’t sure which I needed more.

But just as my foot touched the first step, I heard it—fast footsteps, cutting around the corner like thunder rolling down the corridor.

“Are you okay?!”

Rhett.

His voice struck like a bolt of heat, too loud in the quiet. Before I could respond, his arms were around me, strong and solid and panicked.

“Yes,” I breathed, stiffening.

“I was hunting in the forest,” he said, his voice frantic. “And I—I heard it. Your heartbeat. It was pounding. I tried to find you and—”

His head snapped up. His eyes caught the shadow behind me.

“Silas?”

His tone dropped, sharp as a blade.

“Did he do something to you?”

"No."

The word came out louder than I meant it to, rushing past my lips like a defense. Not of myself—but of him.

I pushed past Rhett, heart rising again for a different reason now, and unlocked my dorm room door. The moment it clicked open, I stepped inside. Safe space. Four walls. Books stacked in corners. Mugs half-filled with old tea. Things that made sense.

But Rhett followed me.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t pace. He just stood there, back to the wall, arms crossed like he was trying to hold something in.

“I’m fine,” I said, quieter this time.

His brow furrowed. “You were scared.”

“I was in the cemetery,” I replied. “I got scared. Silas was there, and he helped me get back. That’s all.”

The words were simple. True. But they felt heavier when I said them aloud, like I was admitting something more. Like I’d accepted some offer I didn’t fully understand.

Rhett stared at me a second too long.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” I finally asked.

“Nope.”

My jaw tensed. “Fine.”

I turned away, exhaling, but I felt it.

Another presence.

Still.

Watching.

I looked toward the doorway.

Silas.

He hadn’t stepped inside. Not yet. Just stood there, cast half in shadow, the dark of the hall curling around him like smoke. His eyes met mine, silver flickers in the low light.

"You come in too, I guess." I sighed, defeated.

I don’t know why I said it.

I don’t know why I wanted him there, in this space that was solely mine. But I did.

He moved like dusk—silent, assured—and closed the door behind him.

Rhett’s eyes widened. “You’re just… letting him stay?”

I shot him a look. “We’re not doing this tonight. I'm tired. If you can stay, he can too.”

“So, what, now he gets to—what is this?” he asked, gesturing between Silas and me. “A slumber party with the grim reaper?”

Silas said nothing. He didn’t need to. His very presence answered for him. He was the calm in the storm. The night behind the nightmare. Whatever I’d seen out there in the graveyard… this was the only thing keeping it from swallowing me whole.

“Yeah, I guess we’re having a sleepover,” I muttered, pulling the throw blanket off my chair and wrapping it around my shoulders like armor. “Congratulations.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, too wired to lie down, too numb to cry.

Rhett paced once, then finally sank into the armchair across the room, still fuming, still watching. He looked like he wanted to say something more—demand answers, declare his place—but he didn’t. Not yet.

Silas remained standing, just inside the door. He hadn’t removed his coat. He didn’t ask to sit. He watched me the way you might watch a flickering candle—calm, but cautious. Like I might burn out if the wind blew too hard.

“Why was he there?” Rhett asked after a minute. “Lucien, I can smell the stench of vampire clinging to you.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “He just… showed up. Said weird things. It was like he was trying to play some game I didn’t know the rules to.”

“You shouldn’t have been alone out there.”

“I wasn’t,” I said, without thinking.

Silas shifted, almost imperceptibly. As if the words affected him somehow.

And Rhett noticed.

The tension that had been quietly simmering between them suddenly sparked to life.

“You trust him now?” Rhett snapped. “You don’t even know what he is, Isadora.”

“Yes, I do.”

It came out quietly.

But it was true.

I didn’t know the name. The species. The classification he might fall under in Rhett’s little mental chart of monsters and guardians.

But I knew him.

I knew the stillness in him wasn’t empty. It was full of purpose.

I knew the cold he brought wasn’t cruelty. It was protection.

I knew the way he looked at me—like I wasn’t fragile, but sacred.

Silas stepped forward, slow, deliberate. Not toward me. Not toward Rhett. Just toward the center of the room. He unbuttoned his coat with quiet fingers and draped it neatly over the desk chair.

Rhett’s eyes didn’t leave him.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Silas said, his voice like dusk.

“You don’t sleep,” Rhett muttered.

Silas didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

I got up, crossed the room, and placed a pillow and spare blanket at the end of the bed for Rhett, then handed another set to Silas. It felt absurd, mundane, domestic. But somehow grounding. I didn’t care what the rules were. I didn’t care who was supposed to be what. Right now, this room felt like the only safe space in the world. And both of them were part of that.

Rhett groaned. “This is insane.”

“No one’s asking you to stay,” I replied.

He glared at me, wounded, but didn’t move.

Silas sat finally—against the wall, long legs folded, eyes closed like he was meditating. But I knew he was listening. Every heartbeat. Every breath. Every echo of the thing we left behind in the dark.

I crawled into bed slowly, the blanket still tight around my shoulders.

And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t reach for the light.

The room stayed dim, bathed in the soft blue glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains.

I closed my eyes.

Rhett exhaled from across the room as he walked over.

Silas was still as stone.

And in the strange quiet between them, I whispered to myself:

I’m not afraid.

Not anymore.